


The Ego and the Id

by Buchstabensuppe



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Caring Flint, Established Relationship, Fever Dream, Fluff, M/M, Nightmare, Post S3, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:03:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8536006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buchstabensuppe/pseuds/Buchstabensuppe
Summary: It was a tedious tapping that woke him from the sticky sleep he had waded through. That and a croaking voice repeating the same thing over and over again: „Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!“





	

**Author's Note:**

> Some very Freudian-filled shenanigans that have been rattling around in my head for months now. I had to get it out of my system. Hope you like it! :)

# The Ego and the Id

The railing vibrated under his hands as he clutched the slick wood to keep standing upright while the deck shook from the direct hit the other ship’s artillery had just buried in their hull.

„DeGroot!“, Silver shouted, trying to ignore the stabbing pain shooting right up to his left hip and the overwhelming nausea it caused in his stomach. He saw him somewhere near the mainmast, holding on to one of the guide lines and shouting orders to the men.

„You all right?“, Billy yelled over the thunder of their own cannons firing back, keeping a steadying grip on Silver’s arm.

„I’m good“, he retorted and couldn’t keep himself from adding: „Where’s the captain?“

„Up at the bridge“, Billy answered, still not letting go of his sleeve. „Sure you’re okay? You look like shit.“

He was right, of course. Silver _did_ look like shit, and had for the last three days, the flesh of his leg heating up and pulling him into a fever yet again. But now was hardly the time to give in to his ailments; not with his men dying under the bombardment of a fucking Navy ship.

„We need to get outta here!“, he grunted through clenched teeth.

Billy nodded. „DeGroot’s already -“

He was interrupted by another cannonball hitting the _Walrus_. The last thing Silver felt was his arm slipping from Billy‘s grip when he finally lost his footing. Then the rough planks of the deck encountered his temple and he was engulfed by the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

 

It was a tedious tapping that woke him from the sticky sleep he had waded through. That and a croaking voice repeating the same thing over and over again: „Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!“

„Shush, Flint!“ Another voice answered, one that seemed oddly familiar but yet alien.

With some effort Silver managed to open his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the intimate design of the wooden ceiling above him. In the weeks after Flint‘s confession on Maroon Island – and after they’d tumbled into this unknown thing between them – he‘d had a great deal of time to commit the knarled pattern above the cot in the captain’s cabin to memory.

„James?“, he managed, baffled by the wicked laughter this request received. 

„He’s not here.“

Silver turned his head to look at his visitor, but when he recognized the outlines of the face hovering above him he was tempted to avert his gaze and curl in on himself again. This had to be a fever dream!

„Hello, John“, his older self greeted, tapping his crutch against the floor boards in a cheerful rhythm.

Silver shut his lids so firmly it hurt. „You’re not real. _This_ can’t be real!“

„ Why, you’re smart as paint“, the other man remarked with a nasty smirk which never touched his eyes. „Your fever is giving you a hard time. You should take better care.“

On second glance Silver noticed that the spectre, who had stolen his face, sat on Flint’s chair next to the cot. His left leg was shorter than it ought to be.

„What happened to that?“, he wanted to know.

The other Silver chuckled and pointed down the cot. „A very good question you should ask yourself.“

A gut wrenching ache settled in his whole body when the meaning of these words finally caught up with him. The weight of his left leg was all wrong, he realized. Much lighter than usual.

„No!“, he gasped when his hand found the recently attached bandages on his upper thigh. „No, not again!“

„Howell told you“, the spectre lightly scolded. „Over and over again. But you – proud and vain as you are – refused to listen, didn’t you?“

„Who are you?“, Silver demanded, trying to fight the horror - both of his latest mutilation and the obvious evidence of his growing madness sitting right in front of him.

„Oh, you know who I am“, the other one said. „The name’s Long John Silver although some call me Barbecue, and I, my boy, happen to be your future.“

Holding back a gasp of pain he struggled to sit up. When the following black wave of nausea and dizziness had finally subsided, he asked: „Where’s Flint?“ 

Instead of an answer he heard the flap of feathery wings when a large bird landed on Long John‘s shoulder, affectionately nibbling on the man’s right earlobe with its crooked beak. 

„Good girl!“, the man purred, stroking the parrot’s brightly coloured plumage. „You’re a fine girl, Captain Flint!“

Despite the severe suspicion that he was slowly losing his mind, Silver couldn’t contain the sudden burst of hysterical laughter that was bubbling out of his chest. „You named your bird after him?“ 

The other Silver smiled. „And what a fitting name it is – wicked little creature that she is! Just as conniving and foulmouthed as her namesake was in the end.“

Silver felt a leaden weight sink in his guts. „In the end? What’s that supposed to mean?“

„Oh! Right“, the spectre exclaimed, slapping his forehead in mock embarrassment. „You don’t know of course. How could you?“ He fell silent, watching Silver with unnerving curiosity. „But even you must have noticed his undeniable urge to feed the flame of his own destruction; although he may not yet have discovered booze as its preferred nourishment.“

„Don’t know what you’re talking about.“ It wasn’t exactly a lie. Notwithstanding that he by now was all too familiar with Flint‘s self-destructive tendencies, Silver knew for a fact that the captain was far less inclined to take to the bottle than most men on his crew.

„As I said“, the other Silver leniently chided like he was talking to an unobservant child, „your precious Flint might not use rum as a weapon against himself yet, but he will get there eventually. That much I can promise you.“ The chair creaked as he leaned towards the cot, propped up on his crutch. „And let me give you one well-meant advice from future to past self. You, my dear, should be nowhere near him when the day comes, or else he’ll drag you down with him.“

Silver closed his eyes; both against the pain in his leg and the genuine sound of the other man’s voice. He knew it was a lie, it had to be. But regardless he felt the words seeping through his brain, leaving a tiny speck of doubt in their wake. Was that how it felt for the men when he manipulated them with honeyed words and meaningless yarns? 

„Admit it, John“, the spectre continued, „you never wanted this, anyway! What has a life as Flint’s quartermaster to offer you other than his dick in your ass and his shadow looming over you for the rest of your days? Now that Billy set up your name to be feared by every man, woman and child on Nassau, you’re entitled to aim higher. The thought must have crossed your mind. On the long run you’ll be better off without him.“

The guilt and anguish this assumption provoked felt like a stab in the guts. Maybe such thoughts _had_ crossed his mind. Maybe in the deepest darkest pit of his soul he still _was_ the self-obsessed little shit he thought he’d left behind long ago? But if this spectre and all the dreadful things he said were just a product of his own messed up brain, there had to be some way to overcome it. He would be damned if he’d let his affection for Flint be tarnished by the lies and fears of his own fucking mind!

Never daring to open his eyes, he grunted through clenched teeth: „You’re wasting both our time. I won’t leave him; no matter what you say.“

The following chuckle resonated with mirth and was accompanied by a sudden mocking croak from that cursed parrot. The words spoken afterwards, however, were dripping with venom. „Loyalty doesn’t suit you, John.“

„You’re wrong!“, Silver grunted. „Now go back to hell!“

„If I’m bound to go to hell so are you, don’t you get it?“, the other man hissed. „I am your destiny! You can‘t run away, John. Not from yourself.“

Silver screamed when harsh hands were clutching his arms and shaking his whole aching body. This experience felt way to real to be a sheer trick of the mind. Silver’s fear peaked while he fought with all his might against the fiendish apparition, praying for this nightmare to stop.

„Go back to where you came from, you fucking shithead, and take your flea-ridden pest of a bird with you!“

„What the fuck’re you talking about?“

„Leave me the fuck alone!“

„John! Look at me!“

The callused hand colliding with his cheek was like a crack of lightning to his brain. When his vision cleared, Silver recognized Flint’s face above him. The spectre and his parrot were nowhere to be seen.

 

Silver struggled to push himself up off the mattress and wrapped his arms around a very dumbfounded Flint. That was when he realized his left leg – although clearly worse for wear – still had a knee joint. Tears of relief flooded his eyes, and he pressed them shut when Flint hugged him back.

„What’s going on in that head of yours?“, Flint asked, his voice somewhat muffled by Silver’s neck and hair. „I was sitting here all night waiting for your fever to break and must’ve dozed off. You nearly gave me a heart attack jolting up like that, screaming bloody murder.“ 

„I’m sorry. It‘s … I wasn’t even aware of your presence. What I said … it wasn’t meant for your ears.“

„A nightmare?“

„Sort of“, Silver murmured, although it felt like a weak explanation for the horror he had just experienced. „More like a manifestation of my deepest fears and doubts sitting right in front of me – on this very chair – wearing my own face and mocking me.“

Flint‘s sympathetic chuckle vibrated comfortingly against his throat. „Sounds terrible.“

New tears stung in Silver ’s eyes. „It was. I … it led me to believe H-howell had taken the rest of my leg.“

„Oh John!“ Flint released him from his arms only to cup Silver’s face in his hands and place a gentle kiss on his sweaty forehead. „He had to cut away the most gangrenous tissue, but I made it perfectly clear I would slaughter him if he’d dare to take more than absolutely necessary.“

Silver let out a shaky breath. „Thank you.“ Now that the worst shock and confusion was wearing off, he began to feel lightheaded, but instead of lying back down he gripped Flint‘s arm for balance and sat all the way up, moving carefully so as not to tear open the fresh stitches on his stump. The new position made his head spin, but the very thought of staying down, talking to Flint while he kept sitting on that damn chair was making him sick. „Come here.“

Before the man joined him on the cot, he reached for his desk where he’d prepared a cup of water. He put it in Silver‘s waiting hands as he took a seat behind him and pulled him close. Silver noted the dash of rum mixed into the stale water and appreciated the faint burning in his throat. 

„Since we’re still afloat, I take it we won the fight I missed out on?“, Silver asked, for he suddenly remembered the circumstances of his untimely swoon. „Whom did we lose?“

Flint sighed. „Only Ebo. Some others are hurt, but Howell says they’ll get over it.“

Silver took another swig from his cup. Ebo had been one of Madi’s men. „Great. Now that’s a conversation to look forward to“, he joked half-heartedly.

“She’ll understand. The men all knew what they were signing up for.“ Flint took the drink from him and downed the last sip himself before dropping the empty cup on the mattress beside them.

They sat like this for a while; Silver mentally composing what he was going to say to Madi while Flint‘s hand was caressing his hip through the blanket they’d pulled over their legs.

„Where’s my peg?“, Silver eventually asked, breaking the consensual silence. He’d let his gaze wander through the room in search of the damn thing, but had been unable to find it.

Flint‘s soothing motions came to an abrupt halt. „I locked it away while you were sleeping. And if you think I‘d let you -“

Silver put his hand on Flint‘s forearm in an effort to conciliate before the hard-headed fool talked himself into a rage. „Listen closely now. Wherever you’ve put it, don’t tell me; better still, throw away the key. Keep it there until I’m all healed up, and if you ever hear me complaining about it, you’re hereby empowered to spank my sorry ass.“

Flint laughed as he kissed the top of Silver’s head. „Now that’s something I’m _definitely_ looking forward to.“

Silver harrumphed. „Bastard!“

„Little shit!“

Despite their cheerful squabbling, Silver’s thoughts soon went back to the disturbing prospects his nightly visitor had broached. He was fairly sure it had all been an illusion caused by his fever, but that did nothing to temper the pangs of guilt he felt for conceiving such ideas in the first place.

„In my dream“, he began, finally resolved to lay it on the line, „I came to realize something. About us.“ God, that was hard! How would you tell someone that your mind had somehow conceived the highly improbable possibility of finding the end of your liaison at the bottom of a bottle? That your subconscious told you to abandon it straightaway and run while you still had the chance?

Flint behind him had grown completely still. His voice betrayed the apprehension he felt. „Tell me.“

Silver was fiddling with the blanket on his lap. „It seems“, he said, inwardly still searching for the right words, „my confidence in this thing between us isn’t as strong as I previously thought.“

He could’ve sworn he heard the frown in Flint‘s voice when he finally spoke. „And how’s that?“

Silver turned in his arms as best he could, feeling that this kind of conversation required eye contact, but the sight of Flint’s face made him regret his decision immediately. He looked beaten, and downright fearful like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. „Listen, I’m not saying I don’t want this. I’m just trying to explain to you that my fucked up mind is telling me not to put all my trust in it.“

„Is this still about Gates?“, Flint asked, and it wasn’t lost on Silver how painstakingly he was avoiding the second name on that list. „John, are you still fearing me?“

A little snort left Silver’s lips without his consent. „Rest assured we‘re well beyond that point. I’m not afraid for myself anymore. It’s rather a matter of being afraid _of_ myself and what I may or may not do to fuck this up.“ 

A bit of the former softness crept back into Flint‘s eyes. „Well, you can be a scary fellow when you’re aiming for it, but on the other hand you’re a hard man not to love.“

Silver’s heart skipped a beat at that last word. „What did you just say?“

Again Flint took his face between his palms; only this time his fingers dug into Silver’s hair with so much force it almost made his eyes water. „I said I love you, John Silver. I can’t predict how this will develop in the future any more than I can tell you the outcome of this war. Maybe we’ll both be dead tomorrow, maybe not. What I _do_ know for sure is that meeting you was the best thing happening to me in a long time, and that I won’t regret any of it, no matter what the future holds.“

His lips collided with Silver’s, successfully smothering the last sense of dread left in his mind. Flint was right; what was the point in fretting over something that may or may not happen someday? It had, after all, been nothing but a damn fever dream! He opened his mouth to let that familiar tongue feel its way behind the barrier of his teeth, and allowed himself to relish its gentle caress. However, he couldn’t resist denying Flint the satisfaction of having the last word. „I don’t think you‘d still say that if my future self decided to penetrate your skull with his peg.“ 

Flint chuckled darkly. „Well, first of all, I doubt you’ll be able to stomp on anyone’s skull for some while.“ The fond expression in his eyes was able to considerably soften the blow of that particular reminder. „And second, there are other devices of penetration I’d rather let you use on me right now.“ 

Silver’s cock twitched at its mention as if it were a living thing, and he was glad Flint seemed determined not to waste any time, for he slipped from behind his back and stood to get the flask of oil from the desk drawer. A lecherous grin played upon his lips when he chucked the bottle to Silver and started to shed his clothes.

„Hold on!“, Silver objected when he came to pull off his shirt. „Would you spare me something ?“

„Can’t you ever get enough?“ The petulant tone of Flint‘s voice was belied by the affection in his eyes as he kneed before him on the floor and carefully pulled away the blanket. His gaze shifted up to meet Silver’s. „D‘you think you’re up to it?“

Silver forced a smile while he let his fingers toy with the collar of Flint’s shirt. „I’m afraid, I’ll have to pass on the more fancy stuff.“

Flint captured his hand and placed a lingering kiss on his knuckles. „We’ll keep it simple then.“

He crawled back up on the mattress and placed himself above Silver, one knee on each side of his hips; then took hold of his hands again, placing them on his waist beneath the shirt. Silver’s fingertips tingled pleasantly as he let them roam up Flint’s lean sides, and back until he could trace the bony ridges of his spine. He made short work of the last redundant piece of clothing, eager to let his eyes wander over the beloved dusting of freckles on Flint’s fair skin.

He was reluctant to take his hands off his lover even for a second, but was forced to when Flint had finished loosening the strings of Silver‘s own shirt and pulled it over his head.

After tossing the garment to the ground, Flint regarded him with a worried frown on his face. „We have to get more food into you.“

Silver examined his own midsection and was indeed a little taken aback at how thin he looked. It wasn‘t actually news to him; ever since the deprivations in the doldrums he had been able to count his ribs - different from the other crewmen, who had regained their weight soon after, his condition hadn’t improved much due to the relapsing fever attacks caused by his stump - right now though Flint’s apprehensive gaze made him especially conscious of his scrawny appearance.

However, beyond the concerns about his health, Flint paid no further attention to it, instead dedicating himself to the task of freeing Silver’s already hard cock from its confinement within his trousers. He didn’t push them all the way down though, for fear of messing with the bandages. An appreciating hum escaped Flint’s throat when he gathered some of the leaking precum with his thumb, eliciting a moan from Silver, and licked it off as if it were a drop of honey.

With hands that were shaking a little, Silver pulled the cork from the flask to coat his fingers and Flint’s entrance with a generous amount of sweet scented oil. Intrigued he smelled at it; they had never used that kind before.

„Almond oil“, Flint replied to his unspoken question. „Found it on the prize. One of the officers had it in his cabin.“

Silver raised an eyebrow at that, but he had barely time to wonder what use an officer of the Royal Navy could have for a flask of almond oil since Flint impatiently caught his slick fingers to guide them back to their current task.

Without further ado Silver grabbed his backside and pulled him close until he was able to leave a little bite mark right below his navel. The sudden movement took Flint by surprise, and he had to brace one arm against the wall so not to lose his balance. He drew breath to raise a complaint, but the words died on his lips as Silver’s middle finger found its way into him.

He began an alternating game of gentle prodding and forceful poking, always in search of these sensitive spots that made Flint moan and shiver above him. When he had him aroused to his liking, Silver added a second finger all the while trailing his tongue teasingly over the soft skin of Flint’s crotch. He could feel the man’s increasing distress in the way his nails dug into Silver’s shoulders, studding his flesh with myriads of small crescent shaped moulds.

„Ready?“, he finally asked, retracting his fingers.

Flint grunted. „For ages! Now hurry up, would you?“

Capturing these ginger framed lips with his teeth, Silver aligned the tip of his cock with Flint’s entrance so the man could ease himself down until his cheeks were flush with Silver’s lap. Flint took his time to get used to the feeling of fullness while Silver indulged in the close-fitting warmth encompassing him; then he started to slide up and down, tightening his grip on Silver’s shoulders to support himself.

„D’you know how bloody gorgeous you look, right now?“, Silver panted through the waves of bliss radiating from his pelvis.

„Aye“, Flint grunted, lifting himself almost off him and shoving down again, forcing a ragged gasp from both of them. „Although I’m already dreading how stiff my thighs will feel afterwards.“

Smirking saucily, Silver gently pinched the thighs in question. „Is my captain getting old n– Ouch!“ A vicious tug at one of his locks had been Flint’s only answer to that, and as if this had been the final stimulation his body needed, Silver came long and fitfully inside Flint, who followed shortly after, showering his chest with hot streaks of pearly white.

In the aftermath of bliss, with Flint toppled over him, glued to his chest by his own cum, Silver became aware of an annoying twinge in his bad leg, which had been stifled by the much more pleasant sensations of their love-making. Reluctantly he nudged Flint in the ribs. „I’m afraid, we have to change positions.“

„Are you in pain?“

„Nah, it’s not that bad“, he said to put him at ease. „Just getting a little sore, and I don’t want to take any risks this time.“

Flint raised an eyebrow as he loosened himself from Silver and used his cast-off shirt to clean them both up, before helping him into a more comfortable position. „What made you finally see reason?“

„Well“, Silver couldn’t suppress a slight shudder when he thought back to that nightmare. „Dreams are most profound when they seem the most crazy, I guess.“

„Still worried about that?“, Flint sighed, putting an arm around his shoulders. „So much for my plan to take your mind off it.“

„You did!“, Silver reassured him, emphasizing his words with a firm kiss. „Truly. I’m just trying to avoid past mistakes to… to secure a future.“

Flint smiled. „Nothing wrong with that, I guess.“ He pulled him close, and Silver gladly hugged him back, willing, for once, to let him have the final say.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally intended for this to be a much lighter, more amusing encounter, but somehow these two bastards wanted to go in a completely different direction, and who am I to argue with Long John Silver and his subconscious? :D I had to add a little something to sweeten it though. What can I say, I'm a sucker for Caring Flint.  
> Please leave comments! I'd love to hear your opinion <3


End file.
